Never Known, Never Forgotten
by dismaynight
Summary: I have always lurked in the shadows, watching him... maybe that's why he's dead now. / AU, OC...Harry


I guess I thought I could have helped him. That's why I went. Why I suffered.

Eight years of never knowing who I was. He spent those years laughing and playing and fooling with his two best friends, never knowing or acknowledging my presence. Now, he doesn't laugh anymore. He doesn't play at all; he would say he's too old. He only fools when he has to. Which is never, but they'd like to see him happy. He would, too.

And I would, but, I'm too far away, now. So is he.

It's been a year since I graduated from Hogwarts. I miss those days, where I could at least look at him. But the shadows in which I practically lived in were too comforting to leave. And now I regret not using all the courage that I had back then. That I had for eight years. That I still have.

I limp.

I'm counting the years since I first saw him. I'm on the nineth. I'm counting the days since I last saw him. I'm on the forth.

I've spent the past three days counting memories. Good and bad. Some neutral. Some I'm really not sure of.

I can't get the memory of four days ago out of my head, where I witnessed two deaths upclose; one death I'm happy about, while the other is paining me into scorching tears each night.

He'd only kissed two girls in his lifetime. Two different years. What seems like so long ago. Every crush he ever had, he got together with that girl. Some would say he was lucky. I say he was missing out on something. Or someone. But maybe I'm jeolous.

This stupid, lousy, old shack I'm forced to live in is bothering me.

There were so many deaths in the Final Battle. I might have lost count. But the prophecy: "neither can live while the other survives" was as unbelievably true as muggles being able to fly without magic.

And then, there was a prophecy only I knew about. A prophecy that is sickening to hear, but helpful. At least that's what I think. "Many will suffer, many will die. Both good and bad, to save one fated life." I hate the fact that it courses through my head like a broken record player.

It's cold; extrememely cold; but what else am I to expect while living in Greenland during winter?

The Dark Lord is gone. I'm tremendously happy about that. But the one who destroyed him is gone, too. The one who has been in my mind for more than nine years. The boy with the eyes that matches my favorite color, my current country, my cold and lost eyes.

There is something about me that always matches the weather. My former feelings in Spring. My bright, yellow hair in Summer. My dull skin in Fall. My now, cold, icy eyes in Winter.

He would've liked that about me. I bet.

Hermione's a docter now. Ron's on a quidditch team. Neville wanted to be a herbologist. Ginny isn't thinking about occupations. Luna wanted to be a writer for a magazine. George are running the shop by himself. I don't know about the others, seeing as I only heard one conversation.

I limped outside, ready for what greeted me. I closed the door and turned around to the mirror hanging a few decimeters away from the doorknob. My reflection discouraged me. There were black streaks down my smooth cheek bones from earlier.

I rubbed them away.

My hair was tied in a loose bun, strands falling in some places. My green eyes were squinting from all of the white around me. My pale lips were curved into a frown.

I could spot a few tiny blemishes on my forehead, and my hairline was a bit darkened.

"I should take a shower before I leave..." I whispered to myself as I walked back into the shack.

The Final Battle was stressing me out, even though it was already over. The depression of it has been lingering around me for days, and all I ever do is sit around recalling memories, playing muggle music with my muggle stereo.

I was isolated in my little shack from all magical items and people. I only have my wand, which I don't use very often.

I undressed and stepped into the shower, hoping the water would ease my muscles and mind.

It did.

I washed my skinny figure and stepped out, grabbing a towel to dry off.

I felt lazy and weak. And a little useless. I wasn't myself lately, but you can't blame me. I had tried to sacrifice myself for the Dark Lord's nemesis to find that it wasn't going to work, and simply suffered an injury in my right leg, making it difficult to do everyday things.

Today, I am going to travel back to London, England, in search for life. I want to throw away what I have right now, forget everything that happened in the past nine years. It would be better that way.

But something inside me keeps on telling me that I won't forget.

I stepped out of the shack again, not bothering to check my appearance, and started my journey to the muggle airport.

It was still a wonder to me how those things stayed in the air, but I knew science was behind it somehow. If it's not magic, it's science, and vise versa.

I tightened my red and gold scarf and continued my tiring limp.

"I'm not going to forget...am I?" I asked myself, already knowing the answer to this persistant question.

_No._


End file.
